Hedonophobia
by Retronym
Summary: Hedonophobia: the fear of pleasure; the fear of something pleasurable. "He was murderous, he was bloodthirsty, he was no longer human, and he was loving every second of it. Wake up from this nightmare." (Rated for lots of dark themes and blood. Yes, this is actually Retronym writing. Set in SSE)


**Okay, wow. I'm not sure if I should apologize for this story of not. It was, in fact, writen by Retronym. I don't have a very dark evil twin. I just got this idea late a night and wrote it up. It's pretty messed up. It's a dream set in Subspace Emissary era, and I warn you, it's very bloody. Actually, whether it's actually a dream or not is up to interpretation, I suppose, but whatever. With that said, here's Hedonophobia.**

There was so much red. Red everywhere, on the ground, up the length of his sword, on his hands, everywhere. It was vibrant and striking, almost aesthetic to his eye. The red had become invisible on the already red clothing of the man on the ground, his overalls dark with the crimson liquid that had come from his own body. He was pretty sure he had felt something akin to friendship with this person before, but it seemed to have escaped him like the last breath leaving the mouth of the man in the dirt. Where he should have felt horror, he only felt numbness. For some reason, he was not incredibly concerned with this lack of caring. Something else seemed to be rearing up out of the wasteland of his emotions, something that he could not quite identify yet among the bright beauty of his cold adrenaline and the red splashes everywhere.

Eyes were watching him, he could feel them. They were dreadfully frightened eyes, and the thought of their intense terror sent a thrill up his spine, making him look up. He had them now. They were backed against the rocky face of a cliff, caught between a solid wall and a body with a beast standing over it. Such power, that he could wipe the disgustingly permanent cheer right off those faces. The reptile was bleeding heavily from his side, holding the tiny pink creature close. The puffball's expression was unresponsive, the crimson stains flowing as his breathing became shallower. He could sense death approaching rapidly; how sweet that the creature would breathe his last in the arms of his equally doomed friend. The angel stood close, weaponless and shaking with horror as the eyes of the beast bore straight into him. All seemed too frightened to try and defend themselves against the one with all their blood on his hands. Could they not stand it to fight a companion? Because he had no such limitations. Not anymore. His mind howled as he looked into their eyes, filled with such fear and betrayal that gave him a heightened feeling of worth. The numbness was leaving him. What was this? He was feeling heated by the emotion inspired by himself and the red of the blood that seemed to glow in his vision.

He began to step forward, walking over the body of the man who had once meant something. No such limitations. The prey backed up as he approached, face devoid of human emotion. The angel pushed the reptile, whose front was becoming soaked by the puffball he held closely, behind him slightly, as though it would do something. Did he even think of trying to stop him? Foolishness. He could not be stopped, reasoned with. He was not the human they thought he was, what he once was. The old him was weak; he would be horrified at the very thought of this. But not he. He was strong and thirsty for the blood of people that might have meant something once. He would have been afraid of becoming this, but now all he felt about it was pleasure. That was what bubbled up from the barren wasteland of his feelings. He was murderous, he was bloodthirsty, he was no longer human, and he loved every moment of it.

He continued to walk forward, leaving the body behind him in the dust to move on to the next, a huge grin on his face. His stature became hunched as he felt his own bones remolding and reshaping. His palms hit the ground, no longer hands, but huge paws. His sword seemed to meld into his feet, reforming into razor sharp metal claws. He snarled, baring a maw full of teeth, relishing the previously unwelcomed sensation of bestiality. He wanted nothing more than to feel the warm life force spray onto his fur, run underneath his claws. Such satisfaction it would give him, while before it would have destroyed him. Why not enjoy it? He was strong, and nothing else gave him a thrill like ripping apart happy souls.

The world around him went red, then began to grow darker and darker as he walked, until he could only see the eyes of his prey as he bore down upon them. They could run no more. The blood seemed to glow in the edge of his vision. _It feels so good. Farewell, little ones. I need you no longer._

He could hear his own laughing in his head, maniacal shouts of laughter as he continued. Somewhere deep inside, on another layer, he could hear himself screaming, screaming to stop, screaming as he went insane. His head was filled with screams, his laughs, his pleasure, his insanity, the shriek of the angel as he reached them at last, a flash of red, screams, wake up, _wake up, wake up!_

 _Wake up from this nightmare._


End file.
